


Kitchen Slut

by DickBaggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, M/M, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3602448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/pseuds/DickBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's bent over, Sam can't resist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitchen Slut

Dean was bent over the fridge so he didn’t hear Sam walk into the kitchen; he was grimacing and stretching his fingertips towards the back, towards that fancy cheese he’d bought. It was buried under a mountain of impulse-buy kale that he was supposed to be using for sandwiches but totally wasn’t; he was just shoving it out of the way when something big, warm, insistent curled around his hip. He flinched, instinctively twisting and would have hit his head inside the fridge, but another big hand slid over the back of his neck and held him in place and he gasped.

Fuck, Sam felt  _huge_  sometimes, big and powerful and fucking hot.

“Showing off for Daddy?” Sam growled, tugging Dean out of the fridge but keeping him bent over.

Dean felt that low growl right down to his bones, had to force himself to speak through the racing pulse, the breakneck rush of blood to his dick. “I was making a sandwich, I wasn’t-”

Sam didn’t let him finish, hauling him around to the counter, pressing him down and draping over him. “So it’s just second nature? Cause I thought you heard me, thought maybe you were bending over on purpose, but you’re saying  _no_ , so, I think we both know what that makes you.”

“Yeah,  _hungry_ ,” Dean snapped back right away, without thinking, wincing in the same breath because that wasn’t what he was supposed to say.

Sam laughed, low and strong and rumbling against Dean’s back. The hand around Dean’s hip veered sharply towards his belt, tugging and grabbing and unzipping, and laughing again when his palm squeezed around Dean’s already hard dick, firm and pulsing against the denim. “Say it, boy, tell me what all this makes you, this eager dick and that ass-show?”

Dean panted hot against the counter, lost in the helpless sensation of being pinned by the slab of muscle that was his brother, his big solid  _demanding_  brother. Dean knew he was taking too long to answer when Sam rocked his hips up against Dean’s ass, the firming ridge of his dick pressing against denim just for a second, until Sam growled and tugged Dean’s jeans down enough so his ass was hanging out. When he skidded Dean forward with the force of his grinding hips alone, Dean _finally_  answered.

“Fuck, I’m such a slut,” he whined, grinding back against Sam’s dick, hastily added, “Daddy,” in a needy whine. Even through Sam’s jeans, his dick felt so good, so thick and hot and Dean needed it everywhere, anywhere, needed that more than Sam’s big fist curling around his own dick and squeezing, although that was  _pretty_ good too.

“Better,” Sam huffed out, almost sounding pleased, but not too much. Not yet. “So what’s Daddy’s favourite slut want, huh Dean?”

Just the question made Dean moan too loud; he knew from Sam’s impatient grasp around his neck that he didn’t have long to answer but he didn’t need it. Sam draped over him like this was always nice, especially once he started railing him, but Dean straight up needed that big body looming over him, watching him with dark eyes, controlling him with those huge hands on his jaw. He needed Sam’s thick cock slapping against his face and shoving into his mouth and down his throat and -

“Want to get on my knees for you,” Dean said, felt his face heating up embarrassed but he didn’t care, actually liked the squirmy feeling in his gut. “Need it, Daddy.”

Sam held a rough thrust against Dean’s soft ass, groaning and rubbing for a few more seconds, until he yanked Dean onto the floor by the scruff of his neck and mashed his face against his crotch. “Did say you were hungry, boy,” Sam muttered, flushed lips curving into a vaguely mean smirk, puffing himself up so he looked even bigger, somehow. He didn’t stop Dean’s grasping fingers from getting his dick out, though, but he watched him closely, his gaze dark and intense.

And Dean felt more pinned than ever like that, under Sam’s eyes, with Sam’s hands covering his head, his dick drooling against his lips until he shoved inside, his brother’s body a massive wall squeezing out every thought, even blocking out the light.


End file.
